


Armed with Guns and Nuclear and Lethal Body Parts

by crowbarwolf



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Red Hood and the Outlaws
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowbarwolf/pseuds/crowbarwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not that he minds, but Roy's jeans are <i>expensive</i>, okay, stolen or not; he'd rather not deal with shit like this while he's wearing pretty things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Armed with Guns and Nuclear and Lethal Body Parts

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for my brother's birthday, who has a crush on Kori and likes Jason's jaw more than Roy's but has a thing for Roy's tattoo. He's grown well.
> 
> First try at the DCU fandom! All mistakes are mine. Hope you like it!

-

i.

-

Friday nights are supposed to be their date nights.

Said date nights are usually spent in cheap diners or expensive Italian restaurants or at home with Chinese take-out and Les Miserables playing on the screen of their flat-screen TV, because classics have always been Jason's thing, and pretty boys with nice voices have always been Kori's thing. Roy doesn't mind since he likes the movie well enough.

Instead, tonight, they are beating the shit out some Irish mafia family or another, guns-blazing and arrows exploding on every weak spot Roy can find, Kori having the time of her life burning people to their deaths with a satisfied smile curling around her lips.

"What the fuck." Roy says to the world at large; to the blood stain smearing down his newly-bought jeans, to Jason high-fiving Kori, glasses of dry martini in their clutches.

He shoves a glass into Roy's hands and says, "Live a little, fucker," and they are clinking their glasses together and swallowing the cold burning liquid down their throats in one shot.

Not that he minds, but Roy's jeans are _expensive_ , okay, stolen or not; he'd rather not deal with shit like this while he's wearing pretty things.

-

ii.

-

Deathstroke – or Slade Wilson under the current circumstances now, he supposes – does not look less happy at the sight of Jason's combat boots right up his nose.

The table is round and small and shaking under the weight of Jason's feet, propped only by a single wooden leg as it is, almost exposing the elegant black Walthers that is barely concealed by the Guardians wrapped around its frame to the world.

Bystanders stop whatever it is they were doing before Jason's grand entrance to shoot nervous looks at their way.

Kori pulls a chair to Jason's left, calm as you please, sitting down and swallowing Slade's drink in one smooth motion like she owns it. Roy is too busy trying to figure out how to get out of this situation alive without anyone getting killed in the next three hundred seconds by covering his face with his hands.

"Wilson." Greets Jason politely. An obnoxious tilt of his head, a small smirk playing about his face as the only signs of his defiance. "How are you."

Slade's left eye twitches, a grim upward curve on the corner of his lips as he greets back, "Brat." Then he smiles, a genuine terrifying smile that lights up his eye in the _'oh let's put some buildings on fire before I decide to kill you'_ kind of way instead of puppies and unicorns happiness sort of smile. "Cut the crap and tell me what do you want."

Jason drums his fingers on the table, one eye trained on Kori who makes a face at the taste of whatever it is Slade's having for breakfast, the other on the fingers Slade has wrapped around the hilt of his Walther.

Roy's hands are balled to fists in the pockets of his jeans. He hasn't had a single drop of alcohol into his system today and his hands are shaking terribly.

Honestly, if he'd known that _'civil conversation with a friendly acquaintance'_ actually means _'we're going to have a gunfight in the middle of the day with a highly-trained mercenary hell-bent on killing my brother'_ , Roy would've stayed at home or swallowed a pill before they left.

"We're selling some rain makers." Jason says. Kori hums under her breath, shooting Jason a _look_ , and Roy squeezes one of Jason's stupidly broad shoulders to back her up. Jason rolls his eyes. "Oh, correction: _storm makers_."

"What kind of storm makers." Slade inquires, feigning disinterest by sliding the Walther away lightning-quick, but Roy knows they've got him hooked.

"Big storm makers. The size of German. Or, you know, Hiroshima in 1945." Roy quips cheerfully.

Someone's back has gone stiff, ramrod-straight in the vicinity of the small cafe they are intruding.

The movement is not easily missed because it sends a cup shattering against the floor and Kori's sharp cat-like eyes flick toward the direction of the person sitting behind Jason with frightening intensity.

Cops, Roy thinks. Bad-timing cops. Roy wonders if they will have to remove him from the equation after they're quite finished here.

Slade studies all three of them carefully, from Jason in his worn brown leather jacket to Roy in his eye-catching red shirt to Kori who is dressed fashionably in light brown and red, a combination of their wardrobe choices, and suddenly Roy realizes how – domestic – this may look to the outsiders.

How intimate.

"There's this guy," Slade is saying as he packs his things up. "I'll set up a meeting, you'll hear from me tomorrow night at the latest. Your woman here have been playing with my phone since the moment she sat down, so you'll know it's me."

Kori does not quite pout when she hands Slade his phone, but her lips are pursed and her arms are crossed like they always are when she is annoyed and is planning to murder someone. Roy steps to her side, rubs his hand soothingly down her neck, settles his hand against the pulse there to keep her grounded.

Once Slade is out of their sight, Jason announces, "That went well."

Kori slaps the back of his head with her purse.

-

iii.

-

They're in the middle of dinner – pastas on Saturday nights; lasagna for Kori, pizza for Jason, spaghetti for Roy plus a bottle of unopened Macallan Single Malt in appreciation of tonight's James Bond marathon – when Wilson texts them of the setup for the meeting.

Les Palais Hotel

Monday, Front Lobby, 20.15 pm

Wear something Pretty.

Kori eradicates the phone while it is literally still in Jason's hands, Roy reading over his shoulders. The flash of beam as it passes over them is scorching hot. Kori has her fingers pointing at them, sparks of green curling around the digits, a frown of utter displeasure on her face as she pauses the movie without taking her eyes off them.

She does not look pleased.

"Jason," Kori chides, sounding much like a disappointed mother about ready to scold her child. "Put your phone away. We are in the middle of a dinner. It is not polite."

Nodding slowly, Jason wipes his hands clean with a wet tissue and obliges.

Roy is pretty sure his boner goes unnoticed, but, whatever. Everyone knows he's a kinky bastard and has a thing for beautiful dominating dangerous women. And Jason being all submissive doesn't really help.

They can always take care of that later.

-

iv.

-

It is not the first time Roy is woken up by Jason launching himself off the bed after a terrible nightmare.

As usual, the mattress dips and the bed creaks (the only reason there are no holes in the walls as of yet is thanks to Kori who has secured all of their weapons under her side of the bed), both the blanket and the comforter damp from Jason's sweat and the mixed result of their intercourse.

The bedsheets must be burnt first thing in the morning, Roy thinks, mumbling incoherently against the mark on Kori's collarbone that Jason put there.

"Return to bed Jason." Kori demands.

Months ago, Jason would've immediately said no, or at least considered the offer in a more skeptic perspective before eventually saying no.

"Yeah, sorry, go back to sleep." Jason murmurs, planting an overly affectionate kiss on Kori's forehead then Roy's cheek.

Months ago, Jason would've never said yes. He would have never kissed Kori's cheeks or Roy's forehead and he certainly would have never pulled them close to him and nuzzled his face against Roy's neck and he would have never let Kori trail her fingers soothingly down his arm.

Fortunately, neither of them are awake enough to address last night eloquently. Roy ends up making too many pancakes they somehow manage to swallow, Jason putting too many milk and sugar into their coffee to give them heart attack, and Kori talking about kittens and puppies and this nice little cafe she saw on their way back to the hotel.

Talking about their problems or feelings, after all, isn't really their thing.

Roy doesn't know whether to be worried or glad about that.

-

v.

-

Once upon a time, Roy broke someone's cheekbones after staring at Kori's boobs for too long.

Once upon a time, Jason broke someone's trachea and killed him in the process after trying to make Kori leave with him.

They don't react well to people trying to make the people closest to them leaving.

(Once upon a time, Kori left two girls hanging on a building by their panties after hitting on both of them.

Jason congratulates her on the originality.

Roy checks the radio station to make sure they can't find any evidences that will lead them to Kori.

His life, seriously.)

-

vi.

-

They don't live by the rules or with _any_ rules at all, but if there is one thing they should not be messing with, that thing is Jason and his morning coffee.

You _do not_ mess with Jason and his morning coffee.

Whoever messes with Jason and his morning coffee can be considered as a dead man within the the next two hours, _maximum_.

Or, you know. _What_ ever.

"Jason, Jaybird, come on man, don't be an idiot." Roy pleads, arms wrapped around Jason's waist, face pressed to Jason's back as he tries to restrain him. "Please don't blow our cover by killing the cat, seriously dude, not worth it."

They are having breakfast at the cafe Kori saw yesterday, located near the long river and overlooking the busier part of the city. It is also conveniently built right next to an old classic building of the biggest money laundering business in town, which is another one of their side-projects while they wait for Monday.

Some of the men Roy saw coming out of the building to take a seat on the empty chairs around them have been sneaking suspicious glances at the back of their heads for the last fifteen minutes or so, unsure if they are civilians or cops or worse.

They are now looking straight at Jason, or more precisely, the Baretta 93R in Jason's hands, seeming to have come to the conclusion that the no, the three of them are not common innocent civilians looking for pancakes and happiness and peace.

Jason is ignoring them in favor of glaring at the cat that is grooming itself on another table. Another table that the previous occupants have left the moment Roy launched himself all over Jason's back and the resounding 'click' of the safety of multiple guns can be heard over the slow classical music in Czech playing in the background.

" _It just licked my coffee six times_!" Jason shrieks dramatically, he always has a perchance for dramatics, it's _Jason_ ; nearly breaking out of Roy's grip only to be pulled back by Kori headbutting his washboard abs. "Unacceptable! Do you know what kind of virus it carries? What if it has rabies? _Roy what if the cat has rabies_?!"

"Can't we just buy another one, please? I'll even pay for it, okay?"

"Roy is right, Jason. He can buy us another cup. But Roy. Jason is also correct. What if Jason gets infected with rabies? What if he transfers the rabies to us during sex? That cat shall not live long." Kori promises solemnly.

Roy clenches his teeth so hard he is positive his gums must be bleeding, by now. "You are not being helpful, Kori. And you can't transfer rabies through sex. I'm pretty sure rabies is not contagious via sex."

"You can't know that! Maybe it's like Quarantine or. You know, Prometheus!"

The cat meows in agreement, and Jason.

Jason downright _snarls_ at the little black fury thing and pulls both of his handguns in public and _starts shooting at the animal in the middle of a crowded street at eight o'clock in the morning_.

The fact that he hasn't run the other way screaming bloody murder (yet) should earn him some kind of survival awards. Like. The 'Congratulation on successfully keeping your team mates in one piece and doesn't turn into a homicidal maniac in the process!' award.

-

vii.

-

Prague in the morning is colder than Gotham in the morning. Not by much, certainly, if Jason's words is to be believed but it is definitely much colder than _Starling City_ in the morning.

Roy will very much appreciate it if Jason had told them beforehand that the place they're heading for is 'not cold enough' by the Sasquatches' (Jason's) standard and not normal humans' (Roy's) standard.

"Stop whining, Harper." Jason groans grumpily, mashing his face into the pillow. "It is not so cold." Kori agrees, nodding.

"Well, I'm the one who has to sleep on the couch tonight, not you guys, of course you can say that!" Roy snaps, throwing his pillow at the lump he suspects is Jason before taking it back and puts it on the couch.

"In our defenses, we offered." Jason points out. "And you refused. So. Not our fault."

"That's because every time I agree to sleep on the same bed together, we _always_ end up having sex! Multiple times! I honestly think my dick was going to fall off after the last time!"

Jason shrugs a shoulder beneath the cocoon of blankets he built around Kori and himself, visibly pulling her closer toward his body for warmth. The contented little noise Kori lets out in response reminds Roy of – _things_ he'd rather not think about, especially when he's about to sleep on a hard couch with hardly any blankets left.

"Your loss."

His loss, indeed.

-

viii.

-

Roy wrinkles his nose when Kori pulls out a forest-green dress decorated with emerald stones and peach-colored pearls.

Jason visibly grimaces and tries to hide it when she switches the green dress with a pitch black one.

Leather corset underneath soft laces, black silk-smooth gown that sweeps the floor when she walks, the long cut from her mid-thigh sexy enough to catch the eye but modest enough to not be frowned upon by the women of the society.

The clerk, for the most part, looks completely awed by both dresses, staring shamelessly at Kori's ass all the while, so she isn't really helping here.

Kori takes a dark red dress, ugly and worn, from one of the racks, earning both Jason and Roy's savage nods of approval.

This, Kori thinks, is exactly why she never brings them shopping for team bonding on Sundays.

-

ix.

-

During the first few months of the establishment of their team, Jason has been asked for sex twice by Kori and once by Roy and twice from Kori _and_ Roy.

Jason was distant and cold and uncoordinated; he was hard to work with but he tried to make it work, to make them work.

He cleaned his guns when they're idle and made sure his drink was not drugged or poisoned but he made time to properly socialize with both of them at once, snarky cutting remarks that Kori responded with polite but equally cutting words and Roy with barely contained sass that their grim-faced _'Fathers'_ did not appreciate.

So when Jason blinked, cocked his head, trying to get a better look at their faces instead of the cold instant 'NO' they usually got, Roy was becoming more optimistic about the whole thing.

"Both of you want to have sex with me." Jason enunciated. Face scrunched up in a grimace, eyes narrowing in a way that either meant you would be dead by tomorrow or you wouldn't be able to walk straight for a month, tilted his head some more.

It's adorable. And pronouncing more of his edible delicious jawline. Roy wanted to lick them and weep and paw at Jason's face and tell him, _God bless your face_.

"Why?" he asked, sounding earnestly curious at the prospect.

Kori gave him a _look_. "Team bonding." Kori deadpanned, and Roy thought: goodbye the chance of getting laid. May you find your happiness in another threesome that does not consist of emotionally constipated people with murder in their minds.

Jason's face was suddenly cleared of confusion, as if he _understood_. Like life had granted him all its secrets and Jason finally knew why the Pollar bears were white and some people were terrible and why Catwoman kept giving Batman blue balls every opportunity she got.

"You should have told me that months ago." Jason said, getting to his feet and taking his shirt off in a way that must be deliberate, because holy fuck. He grinned, tugged at the waistband of Roy's jeans, the button of Kori's shirt. "Well? Come on, we have a bed to break and bedsheets to burn. We don't have all night now, don't we?"

There is something, Roy had mused, as Kori straddled Jason's lap, he is missing here.

-

x.

-

Three hours before the intended meeting, Jason is halfway through _A Clockwork Orange_ , Roy is too busy screaming profanities at the TV to notice, and Kori is nearly finished painting her nails in various shades of red.

Jason has never seen so many shades of red in his life.

There are at least seventeen bottles of nail polishers on the coffee table, next to Roy's drink – a cup of hot green tea, because caffeine is bad before a job that requires you to look pristine; no alcohol because he's cutting back but also because it will be bad for the job.The only reason Jason hasn't said anything at the thick smell of paint is his love for his ribs. And a proper functioning kidney. And all major internal organs he has, to be honest, but. Beggars can't be choosers.

He's in the middle of reading Alex, after a terrible incident at a countryside, listening to classical music in order to fantasize violence, when someone shouts something in Czech and knocks on their door.

Jason, because he is in his right mind and knows better than to ask Kori to open the door – _no one bothers Kori while she's painting her nails, just. _Don't_ – attempts to get the door, only to be tackled halfway by Kori in all her blazing glory with an ear-piercing shriek._

"Kori _what the fuck_ ," Jason grunts against the arm he has cleverly used to protect his nose and the majority of his face. Kudos for smart thinking for him, ha!

Kori wriggles a little on his backside, which is distracting and uncomfortable though he won't mind if she does it under a different circumstance, says, "It is alright Jason. Your face has not been harmed. We will need your jaw and eyes to be in one piece for this meeting to go well. Which is why you and Roy are going into the bedroom and wait for me there. Now."

"Yeah well, kinda hard to do that sweetheart when you're sitting on top of me." Jason points out, looking up at her over his shoulders. And. Damn. "Next time we're fucking, you can definitely top." He says to Kori earnestly, because. The view down here is _fan-fucking-tastic_.

Kori rolls her eyes as she straightens up, tugging at the hem of her camisole.

She's not wearing any pants.

"Jason."

"Yeah?"

"The bedroom." She puts her foot on his ass, pressing down and gesturing at the bedroom impatiently. Jason hums. Kori narrows her eyes down at him. She looks really hot doing it. "Now, Jason."

Jason sighs, long-suffering, but he crawls his way toward the bedroom anyway, standing up halfway and grins at Kori who literally kicks his ass for being obnoxious. "Bring Roy with you!" she reminds him one more time, to which Jason responds with, "Heard you the first time Princess!" which earns him another kick.

Roy is pressing his face to the TV screen, hugging it and _weeping_ when Jason comes to fetch him. "The Mets. Jason, it's the first quarter and the Mets are losing. Jason. Jason, are you listening to me? I hate you so much right now. What are you doing. I am not a kitten. I refuse to be treated like one. Stop it this instant, Jason, you are not my mommy cat. Or. You know. Daddy cat. Are you my daddy, Jason? I think we fore-played that the last time we were in Paris. Or was it Venice? I can't remember."

"This is exactly why I told you to stop watching that shit," Jason tells him. "Baseball has completely ruined you, Harper, more than life already has."

"Coming from the guy who watches Discovery Channel and History Channel."

"Hey!" Jason says, offended. "You said you like Vikings. And the Bible. You can't stop talking about Blagden's curls and blue eyes and how you want to, with his mouth –"

" _Bedroom, Jason!_ " Kori shouts, from the living room. Jason rolls his eyes. "Come on, you heard the Princess. Up you go, asshole." He drags Roy into the bedroom with more force than necessary, seeing that Roy decides to be a little shit by going limp in his hands instead of trying to actually move.

"Why do I even put up with you people, fucking Christ."

"You love us," states Kori, matter-of-fact. "Which is why you're going to do as you are told and put this suit on."

Roy and Jason stare at her blankly in unison. Then they look at the digital clock on the wall above the bed, which says 17.09, and at Kori again, this time a little bit crazily.

"It's five o'clock." Roy says first, because his sense of survival is worse than Jason. "Kori, we have three hours to get ready."

"Yes, and the sooner I get you all cleaned up, the sooner I can dress myself." She places the suits on the bed and goes toward the wardrobe where, when she opens it, three bags of what Jason is pretty sure make-up products are hidden behind the safe box. "We'll go with Roy first. Jason, hold him, cuff him if you must, in the bathroom. Get him to shower. And no, _we are not having sex now_. Save the sex for later. _Go_."

Roy sighs. "She's really hot when she's bossy isn't she."

"Not when the threat of castration is there, sometimes she's not." Jason says, but nods anyway, because it's true.

Kori shaves Roy's jaw using a cut-throat razor with practiced ease after his shower; from his cheeks down to his neck, until Roy's face loses any hints of stubble, his face as clean as it gets.

She then cuts his hair and styles it like it used to – before imprisonment, and the public falling out, and the general falling out with Oliver Queen, with Green Arrow – forces Roy to sit still as she waxes his legs ("I know it's not important, Roy, and no, you do not need to flash your legs at any of them.") and Jason is surprised to find that it takes an hour for them to finish.

"I am a genius," Kori tells him. "I am surprised that you find this is surprising." Then forces Jason to sit still after his bath (bath, not shower – Kori is very much displeased by this revelation) whilst she shaves his face as well.

It turns out that since Jason has the better jaw than Roy, which Roy dignifies with an embarrassing squawk, Kori doesn't shave him as much as she does Roy, because stubble is apparently hot when you have the jaw for it. Jason makes a face at her from the mirror and she pinches his cheek when he tries to move.

Precisely two hours fifteen minutes later, they are all dressed and ready. Jason and Roy both wear suits similar in everything except the size, and while Kori has commanded Roy to wear the black tie, she has commanded Jason _not_ to wear the tie and even let him unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. Roy pouts the entire way but doesn't seem to care either, more focused on Kori's dress as it is.

She is wearing a long elegant dress, the color a mixture between blood-red and red-wine, strapped over her left shoulder where the material goes down the expanse of her back, pinned beautifully to her right hip by a large red rose. It is tight around the chest and waist, pronouncing boldly the curve of her ass and her waist. Her lightly muscled arms are covered by red evening gloves that extends past her elbows.

Roy has been watching her fingers ever since she put the gloves on.

"Will you stop it." Jason hisses through the corner of his lips. "Stop looking like that, stop looking at Kori's hands, and for fuck's sake _stop looking at my ass_."

"Sorry." Roy hisses back, though he doesn't sound like he's sorry at all. They get into the hotel easily, and Jason spots the guy they are supposed to meet in the lobby, sitting alone on a table with three empty chairs in front of him. "Still. How are you going to make them believe we have a nuclear weapon at our disposal?"

"We don't have to," says Kori, calmly. "They already know."

True to her words, once they reach the table, their possible buyer Mr. Walker is looking through a folder of photographs. One of them, Roy recognizes, shows three RPG-30s plus a dozen of Vampirs draped all over the row behind it. The background is badly lit but Roy can tell for certain that it's the basement of the church they are _borrowing_ to hide the stolen weapons.

A woman dressed elegantly in black accompanied by two men are subtly looking at them from the bar the moment they step into the hotel, which suggests that no, Mr. Walker is not here alone. Figures.

"Mr. Red, Miss Starfire, and Mr. Arsenal, I suppose?" Walker addresses them politely in thick Western accent. He sits back, steeples his fingers over his knee. His smile is sharp and knowing, eyes alight with curiosity and intelligence. "Please, have a seat. Dinner will arrive shortly."

"There's no need," Jason says. "We've eaten."

Mr. Walker nods understandingly. "Ah, straight to business then. Good." A waiter comes forward to place three glasses of wine on the table in front of each of them. Roy is smart enough not to drink it at first sight. Mr. Walker leans forward, the smile still in place.

"I'll have to admit that I was a bit... surprised, when Mr. Wilson called us on Saturday. He's not in the weapon-selling business anymore you see, so you'll forgive me for being a bit skeptic when he told me he has some _storm makers_ to sell." He pauses, waits for a beat, then swallows his drink.

"You have two storm makers and a dozen more RPGs. Mr. Wilson told us that the guns and the quivers are for personal uses only, so we assume that it's the storm makers and RPGs you want to sell, yes?"

"Bot storm makers and half of our RPGs," Kori corrects him. Jason grins, all teeth. "Despite what Mr. Slade may have told you, Mr. Walker, you're not our only potential buyers. Our connection doesn't simply stop in Europe. There are other more interesting buyers in Asia."

Walker's lips pursed. "Well then." He pulls out a piece of paper and scribbles a number on top. Too many zeros, but not one that Roy's never seen before. Walker shows it for the three of them to see – he's smart enough not to think that Jason runs this team alone, Roy has to give him that – which makes Jason's lips curl into a smile.

"Triple it," Jason says. "Done," Walker agrees, and pulls out his phone. "Your account number, if you please."

The transaction goes smoothly, after that. Jason confirms that their number's gone up. Kori drinks her wine after making sure it's not poisoned. Roy follows suit.

It isn't until they're long way out of the hotel that a bunch of guys dressed in armors corner them, machine guys strapped to their shoulders. Kori smiles and Jason laughs, a merry sound he tries to burry in the crook of Kori's neck, and Roy sighs long-suffering and disappointed.

"My life," Roy mumbles under his breath, and his bow is out on display.

Well then.


End file.
